Should patience be freed from its reticence
Would it un-curtain the secret of time
To lay bare our origin by ev’dence
Showing how we rise age and back to lime
In a round trip go’ng ahead we go back
And we are impotent to make a change
Of a proc’dure go and wait to come back
Though we deem it right it looks a bit strange
To keep our heels on a half measured track
Where we stop fall leaving only a name
‘Tis a dream to be a pho’nix and live back
Centuries of glory out of the flame
Withal I bel’eve though empty is my hand
The earth perhaps will make me understand